You Don't Know What You Don't Know
by c-r-roberts
Summary: Peeta Mellark is Panem High's resident bully, and his favorite antagonist is Katniss Everdeen. All's fair in love and war, and Katniss isn't one to go down without a fight. Written for Prompts in Panem Language of Flowers Day 2 Marigold: Cruelty.


You Don't Know What You Don't Know

_Peeta Mellark is Panem High's resident bully, and his favorite antagonist is Katniss Everdeen. All's fair in love and war, and Katniss isn't one to go down without a fight. _

I packed an apple and a slice of bread spread with the last scrapings of peanut butter for lunch today. It's just about all we had left in the house after letting Prim have the leftover pizza. As I enter the lunch room of Panem High, silently observing the different tables of obnoxious students, I debate hiding in the bathroom stall. There's only a month or so left of school, but every lunch period feels intolerable these days. Maybe it's because I have so few of them left before I graduate. Or maybe it's because when I enter, I feel like a leper.

The student body hasn't been particularly kind to me since my dad went to prison back in September. When the town financial officer is caught stealing from the funds, it tends to make a splash in the newspaper headlines. It also tends to make his teenage daughter's last year of high school pretty miserable.

There's an opening at a table near the windows, and I decide that instead of running and hiding, I can eat my meager lunch alone and in front of everybody.

To be fair, my solitary lunch becomes a party of two within 5 minutes. Madge Undersee, a pretty blonde on the cusp of the popular crowd, still acknowledges my presence, and sits down across the table from me. She's the mayor's daughter, who my dad used to work for. I think she feels guilty, knowing my dad wasn't solely responsible for the crimes he was convicted of, or at least feels sorry for my family for what's happened over the past year. She also recently broke up with her ex-boyfriend, Marvel, when he got back together with Clove O'Malley, the captain of the cheerleading squad, and doesn't have anywhere else to sit at the moment.

We don't really talk except for Madge to tell me her chemistry test was a killer, but that's fine by me. It's not like I have anything to say. I eat my apple first, and am taking a chip from the vending machine bag Madge has offered me a handful of when our silent little lunch gets decidedly less peaceful.

"Hey Everdeen, talked to your daddy lately? I hear AT&T offers a good collect call plan these days." The words' speaker grins mercilessly at me as he laughs at his own joke, obviously pleased with himself. His buddy Cato finds him hilarious as well.

I'm used to this kind of thing, so while it stings, I don't outwardly show any emotion.

Instead I roll my eyes at Panem High's resident golden boy.

"Fuck you, Peeta."

Peeta Mellark. I've gone to school with him my whole life. He used to be a nice enough boy until his dad died in middle school and he grew into a well-built jock with an attitude who decided his favorite thing to do is torment me one way or the other. His acerbic wit has only gotten worse these past few months. I haven't really let it affect me though; my skin's way too tough for that by now.

The blue eyed blonde just smirks back at me with that half-evil glint in his eye.

"Sorry, I'd love to, but I don't do charity."

"From what I hear, you don't do much of anything." I take a bite of my sandwich with a raised eyebrow, not missing a beat.

Madge snorts, which is about as much of a dog as she'll have in this fight. She's friends with Peeta—but not one of the cronies and certainly not one of the airheads who fawn over him.

That's when Peeta ignores my comment and turns his attention to Madge.

"Having fun slumming it, Madge?"

She squirms uncomfortably, and I know he's not just taking a dig at her for sitting with me at lunch. You see, that's the other reason Madge hangs around with me: she's started to date my best friend, Gale Hawthorne. He graduated last year and is an apprentice for a carpenter.

"Leave her alone," I tell him, the force in my voice surprising me.

I think it surprises Peeta too, because he puts his hands up in mock surrender.

"Chill out, Everdeen. Since when can't you take a joke?"

"I'll let you know once I hear one."

His eyes flicker in mild amusement, and I try to see him as the ugly human being his personality can make him out to be. But in reality, he's as handsome as he thinks he is. We have a momentary staring contest before Peeta finally relents.

"Well then. Have a nice lunch ladies," he bids us goodbye as if he hadn't just maliciously insulted us.

I watch him walk away, back towards his table of popular kids, vaguely listening to Madge swear he can be a really great guy when he wants to be.

* * *

"C'mon Gale, it's the only place in town that sells them."

We're standing outside the Mellark Family Bakery in the uptown portion of Panem, surrounded by well-groomed store fronts and a redbrick main street. It's a pretty late Spring Saturday afternoon, and I'm on a mission to get a dozen strawberry cheesecake cupcakes. It's my little sister Prim's 14th birthday, and they're her absolute favorite.

Gale's currently trying to convince me to opt for some other form of sweet treats.

Peeta works the counter at the bakery on Saturdays.

Gale's not exactly a Peeta fan.

I roll my eyes at Gale and make a move towards the door, pulling it open to the sound of bells jingling. It's dead inside except for us.

"If he says anything funny, I'm warning you now I might hit him," Gale whispers to me as Peeta emerges from the back.

As if on cue, it begins.

"Ah, Katniss Everdeen. The girl who puts out my fire."

I roll my eyes. He can do better than that. Then I watch as he eyes Gale up and down before turning his attention back to me. I step up to the counter, secretly grateful Gale hangs back a few steps, closer to the door.

Peeta snaps his fingers and smirks. "Let me guess. You want to commission a cake with a file baked inside."

I shouldn't have mentally taunted him to do better.

I bite my tongue, and give him a sweet smile instead.

"Just here for some cupcakes, _Cupcake_." I put my hands on my hips, our gazes unwavering from each other until Peeta directs his attention back to Gale.

"And, what, you brought a bodyguard?" he asks, incredulous.

I let out an annoyed sigh, praying Gale doesn't say anything. I just want to get in and out and celebrate Prim's birthday.

"Look, do you have strawberry cupcakes or not, Mellark? I'm really not in the mood to go twelve rounds today."

Peeta leans over the counter in my direction. "I'm flattered, Everdeen, but at best I'd only last eight." He winks.

I gag.

As I expect, Gale charges forward, telling me he's going to take care of this guy.

I react just as quickly as Gale, and have my arm out to stop him before he can get anywhere near the angel-faced Satan behind the counter.

"Gale, stop it," I hiss, awkwardly pushing him behind me.

But Peeta, being Peeta, doesn't make it any better.

He laughs. "Ooooh, look at that. It only took Gale Hawthorne a minute and a half to threaten to kick someone's ass. That must be a new record."

Gale seethes. "Seriously, Mellark. Try me."

"Ok, that's enough. Gale, just go outside. You're not helping and I'll be out in a minute." I push Gale again further towards the door, which requires some exertion of effort on my part.

When Gale finally relents, I let out a sigh of physical relief and push the strands of hair that fell out of my braid behind my ear.

Peeta's staring at me from across the counter when I look back at him. With Gale gone and no one else around, the mood of the room has changed decidedly.

"Strawberry cupcakes, huh?" He asks, the caustic tone gone from his voice.

I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. "A dozen."

Peeta nods in response, wiping his hands on his apron before reaching for a box from underneath the counter.

"Why do you insist on egging him on?" I blurt out after watching him for a beat.

He turns back toward me with his most charming grin.

"Because it's great foreplay."

I make another disgusted face. "I think I'm good with just the cupcakes, thanks."

Peeta laughs with a slight nod. I unsuccessfully attempt to suppress a smile.

Then he really surprises me.

"It's Prim's birthday, right?" He finishes loading the cupcakes into the box and places them on the counter. I'm dumbfounded that he knows Prim's birthday. While we've essentially grown up together, it's not exactly something I'd expect him to remember.

"Don't look so surprised," he tells me with a crooked smile, my stunned face confirming that he's right.

"She comes in here sometimes after school. She really likes the mint chocolate chip cookies too. Want me to throw in a couple of those as well?"

I furrow my brow, unable to recall Prim ever eating or mentioning mint chocolate chip cookies. They are, however, _my_ favorite. I'm looking down instinctively at the ten dollar bill in my hand when Peeta interrupts my thoughts.

"On the house," he proclaims, reaching into the glass covered display case and bagging at least half a dozen cookies.

"Peeta," I breathe, watching him add the bag on top of the box of cupcakes.

He waves off my attempt to pay him for the cupcakes as well.

"Seriously, don't worry about it. Birthday discount." He says it so matter of factly that I wait for the other shoe to drop. Surely he's fucking with me.

"Peeta, just let me pay for the cupcakes." My voice sounds more impatient than I am. We're at a face-off where he refuses to acknowledge the money I'm holding out to him and I'm refusing to take the cupcakes without paying. His blue eyes pierce through me in an entirely different way than they usually do.

Finally, Peeta sighs with exasperation, pushing the baked goods as far towards the edge of my side of the counter as possible.

"Katniss, just take the damn cupcakes already. Before my mom comes back and makes me give them to the dog."

Instinctively, I look towards the back of the bakery, half expecting Peeta's angry, tyrant-like mother to come bursting through the swinging door.

Of course, no one's there, and I look back at Peeta, who hasn't taken his eyes off me. He smiles, almost sadly.

I decide to take the freebies.

"Thank you," I manage, clutching the bakery to my chest gently. I smile despite myself. "You're not half bad sometimes, you know."

Peeta's smile broadens, morphing into a wicked grin as I back my way out of the store, leaning into the door to push it open with my backside.

"Smell ya later, Catpiss Neverclean!"

And just like that, the world's balance is restored.

* * *

We're assigned as partners for a research project in U.S. Government a week or so after Prim's birthday. As Ms. Trinket calls out the random pairings, and I hear Peeta's name after my own, I grown inwardly, unafraid of wearing my annoyance on my sleeve. Peeta's not afraid to do the same. As people begin pairing off, however excitedly or reluctantly that may be, Peeta yelps to get Ms. Trinket's attention.

When she comes to the back of the room to investigate, he points at me.

"Ms. Trinket, I think I need a new partner. Mine's broken."

I'm already scowling at him, but add in an eye roll for good measure.

"Yeah, well mine's just an idiot."

Peeta shakes his head at me. "You know, a lot of people would consider you a very lucky woman."

I scoff. "More would consider you a very delusional man."

Even Peeta half chuckles at this, but Ms. Trinket just looks exasperated.

"Play nice, children," is her only advice.

I guess this means we're still stuck together.

Peeta raises his eyebrow at me.

I look at him wearily, unable to read his next move.

"Should I reserve a study room? We can probably knock this out in a few hours after school."

I have no objection to this suggestion.

"Just so you know, I expect you to do the heavy lifting," he tells me, grinning.

For some reason, that doesn't surprise me.

The study room in the back of the library has a wall made of glass that looks out on some of the less trafficked stacks, but the blinds are tightly drawn at the moment.

I'm sitting on the table with my legs dangling over the side, because it's much more comfortable than sitting in the chairs at the moment.

I try to keep my voice down. "Peeta, don't you think we should at least attempt to work on this?" My request is meek and pathetic, and Peeta pounces on it.

He leans in closer to me so that our foreheads are touching and gives me that devilish grin I've become so accustomed to.

"What do you mean? I'm working _very_ hard at the moment." His breath is hot on my neck as he dips his chin down to allow his mouth to pepper the sensitive crevice with kisses.

Peeta nips playfully as I push him away lightly in protest.

"I'm serious," I whine. "We shouldn't be doing this here."

Peeta shuts me up by kissing me on the mouth, planting himself between my legs, bracing his weight with his forearms on the tops of my thighs.

I lose any fight left in me and give in to a string of deepening kisses.

I bite his bottom lip when I feel his hand slip under my shirt and graze the bare skin of my hip. He uses this leverage to pull me closer to him, and I latch on to the material of his polo shirt, clinging to him as his tongue swirls in my mouth.

His hand then drifts towards my chest and I arch my back instinctively.

I hook my legs behinds Peeta's, and he cups my breast over my bra. He works his lips over my neck again, causing my skin to tingle. My hands instinctively move to the back of his neck, curling the tendrils of hair there in my fingers.

He makes me feel impossibly good. I want his lips and hands on me all the time. It's like a sickness, I can't help it. I can't even really explain how I ended up participating in embarrassingly gratuitous make out sessions with Peeta Mellark—growing more frequent by the week—but I know I don't want them to stop.

Except that I also know that we can't keep doing this. One of these days, we're going to get caught, and it's going to be awful, but for now, right this second, all I care about is Peeta's lips. And his sweet yet masculine scent. And the way his voice purrs when he whispers in my ear.

We're kissing again, and I'm inching his shirt upwards, letting my hands graze his hardened abdomen, when Peeta finally breaks his mouth from mine. He lets out an exasperated breath, shaking his head with a light laugh, like he can't really believe he's paused what we're doing.

"Katniss, you're right," he murmurs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His blue eyes search mine, almost desperately.

"We shouldn't be doing this here. Really, we shouldn't be doing this at all."

I jerk away subconsciously, and the confusion and hurt must be plain on my face because Peeta immediately grabs my hand to keep me in place.

"Katniss, wait. I didn't mean it like that. I mean the sneaking around. In my car in the back of the parking lot after school. Behind the old oak tree at abandoned meadowland park."

Peeta pauses, inhaling nervously as he places his hands on the sides of my shoulders, rubbing gently before looking back up at me.

My heart won't stop pounding. I'm terrified of what he's going to say next.

"I just, I just…I just think maybe we should turn this little tryst into something more normal, is all I'm saying."

He stares at me with puppy eyes, void of any mischievous glint or antagonism they usually have.

I exhale. It's what I want to hear and what I don't want to hear in the same sentence, but I know I have to talk Peeta down of this ledge. At least for right now.

"What, so your mother can beat you with a rolling pin and then humiliate me in front of everyone? No thanks."

I wasn't kidding about Peeta's mom being an abusive tyrant. She's notorious in Panem and legitimately one of the meanest people I've had the displeasure of knowing. It's part of why I've been able to tolerate Peeta's nasty side—since his dad died, he's had to survive living with her somehow.

Peeta gives me a sad smile, and I know that my words sting, but it doesn't stop me.

"Or how about having to explain to my only real friend why I've been sneaking around with a guy who literally calls me Catpiss Neverclean?"

I shrug, waiting for answers. But I don't push him away when he leans back into me, cupping my cheek in his hand.

"That's just it, this act. It's exhausting. I'm so tired of acting so awful to you in public when all I want to do. Is. Kiss. You. All. Over." Peeta accentuates his point by trailing kisses from my mouth to my collar bone after each word.

I melt. I sigh contentedly as he pulls back and grins back at me.

"So what exactly are you saying?" I ask, slowly.

Peeta tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at me. "You really have no idea, do you?"

I respond with a blank stare.

"The effect you can have."

He gets a blank stare coupled with an eyebrow raise in response.

Peeta closes his eyes momentarily as he takes a deep breath. He puts his hands on my hips, and when he opens his eyes, they dart back and forth before he finally locks his gaze on mine. His energy makes me feel nervous enough to hold my breath.

He speaks barely above a whisper.

"I'm falling in love with you, Katniss. And to be honest, some part of me has _always_ loved you. So as hot as our little secret is, I can't keep just stealing kisses from you in the out-of-order third floor bathroom."

His eyes beg me to respond. I am genuinely caught off guard.

"Peeta," I say, unable to form any other words.

This was just supposed to be a physical thing, born out of the tension of mutual resentment but an undeniable chemistry. The ground rules up until this point had seemed pretty simple—act like we still hate each other in public because what we're doing when we're not in public is inexplicable to anyone who knows either of us—and don't get too attached because graduation is soon and Peeta leaves for college at the beginning of August. Come to think of it, that second rule wasn't exactly discussed between the two of us. It just kind of seemed implied.

Regardless, Peeta Mellark confessing his love for me in study room #4 while my hair's still mussed from our secret make out session seems like a violation of some other implied ground rule too. He was just going to be this exciting, fun, new thing for me while we survive the last months of high school. He was supposed to come and go as he pleased; he wasn't supposed to stay.

I realize he's still expecting an answer.

"Peeta," I begin again gently. "You leave for school in 3 months."

"It's only two hours away." Already, he's inched himself away from me. His physical withdrawal hurts me more than I expect and I tug at his shirt to pull him back. He doesn't expect it and looks at me with wide eyes.

"I don't necessarily like what we have either. But your friends will ridicule you, not to mention me. Even more than they already do. I just don't need to be the topic of any more gossip in this place, you know?" I barely mumble the last sentence, looking down and away.

I hear him sigh and then he tilts my chin back up so that we're eye level again.

"First of all, I don't care what Cato and Marvel think, okay? They're morons. Yes, they're my friends in the sense that I hang around them now, but it's not like I plan on carrying on those relationships after graduation. But you? I want you—all of you—for as long as you'll let me have you."

I can't help the smile that creeps across my face.

"But as for the drama?" Peeta continues, "I can understand that. So maybe you're right, maybe we don't take this thing public just yet. But graduation's in two weeks. And your concerns kind of become invalid once you're free of these hallways, right?"

I shrug, indicating I have no position on whether he's right or wrong.

He takes this as an indication that he's right.

"So after graduation, I want to take you on a real date. In fact, I want to take you out that night."

"What, to Marvel's after party?" I ask with a side eye.

Peeta ignores the sass I give him and tells me he wants to take me on a date that doesn't involve cheap vodka, beer pong, and puking.

"Just us. We'll go somewhere out of the way, even, to ease ourselves in to it if you want."

I sigh, feeling cornered. He's right. If my excuse for not exposing our physical relationship, for lack of a better term, is the uproar it will cause at Panem High, then I can't really object to going public after graduation. And yet I'm still not convinced the world is ready to know about Peeta and me. And I'm not sure I know myself what I want Peeta to be to me. It's not like I've been secretly drawing hearts with his name scribbled inside them, but I also know I don't want to stop what we're doing either. And I know that he wants to be an engineer and is excited to go away to school where his older brother Rye will be a junior. He likes pepperoni on his pizza but not sausage. He has a way with words that can charm anyone into doing most anything or completely eviscerate them, depending on his mood. And he has really, truly, incredibly blue eyes. Eyes that even the first time I stared into them, I knew that underneath all of that tough guy bravado he's spent his high school career putting on is the makings of a genuinely good guy.

Apparently I've left too much dead air between us, because Peeta continues on.

"Will you at least think about it? Because I just think that if you're going to be my girlfriend, I should get to treat you the way you deserve to be treated."

My throat goes dry, but I manage to croak out a question. "Girlfriend?"

Peeta grins. "Is there something wrong with that?"

I shake my head, conceding a smile. "It's just such a juxtaposition from the names you usually call me."

Peeta kisses me lightly on the forehead with a sly grin.

"I told you, it's all foreplay."

* * *

The next night, Peeta sneaks over after my mom leaves for the graveyard shift. I make him park his car two blocks over. It's the first time we've been so bold to do anything like this, but he curls under the covers of my bed with me, and we kiss and touch with the pretext of a movie playing on my computer. We don't go any further than we've ever gone before, but this time, when his fingers dip into me, there's no forced urgency of required action at the risk of getting caught. We take our time exploring. He's tender with me, which contrasts with some of our previous faster, rougher interactions. It's not necessarily better, just different. In a good way. And he puts me at ease, insisting we have all the time in the world.

It's then and there that I realize that I want this too—the idea of all the time in the world.

So when he pulls me into his arms, my head resting on his bare chest, and tells me that he wishes he could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever, I smile to myself.

"I'll allow it," I breathe, looking up at him and receiving a toothy grin.

"You'll allow it?" Peeta repeats.

I nod, kissing him lightly on the lips.

"Except forever only lasts until 5 AM, when my mom gets home." I lay my head back on his chest, curling further into him.

Peeta chuckles and smoothens the hair on the top of my head.

"I'll take what I can get these days, Everdeen."

* * *

I only ran into the bathroom to use the restroom quickly before the ceremony started. But now I'm hiding out in the stall, practically holding my breath to keep from being noticed as the two girls talk, likely as they each reapply their layers of makeup.

Glimmer Rogers piqued my curiosity when she entered the bathroom already bitching about how since Prom, Peeta has barely acknowledged her. She's talking to Clove O'Malley, her partner in crime. Glimmer was Peeta's Prom date. They'd agreed to go together months ago, practically lifetimes before Peeta and I became…what we are.

Both girls have been nothing but rude to me since puberty.

And so now of course I can't help but want to know what they have to say.

Clove agrees that Peeta's been acting weird lately. She asks Glimmer if she knew that he's not even coming to Marvel's graduation party.

Glimmer scoffs. "It doesn't surprise me."

Clove's voice lowers to a whisper. "Don't get mad, but Marvel told me it's because Peeta said he'd be too busy getting townie ass."

Glimmer screeches, responding in anything but a whisper. "What?! Who? Ugh, I bet it's that slutty bartender that serves them at the Hob. They don't shut up about how they all want to bang her. You know this is all Marvel's fault."

Clove's response is a confused "Why?"

Glimmer explains, the annoyance clear in her voice: "Marvel started this bet with Cato and Peeta, it's been an ongoing contest all year. They're trying to see who can score the funniest or toughest hook up. Then they score them by degree of difficulty. Like when Cato fingered Delly Cartwright at the Spring Fling—he scored 100 points. You know, a point for every extra pound."

I have to swallow the bile rising in my throat.

"I guess that explains Marvel hooking up with that goodie two shoes Madge when we broke up last month. Getting her to put out must have gotten him at least 300 points," Clove giggles.

I decide I've heard enough. There's truly no end to the evil in this school. I practically break through the stall door as I charge at the sinks the girls are standing in front of, just as I suspected, preening.

Glimmer turns up her nose. "I thought something smelled funny."

I feel as though my eyes are a glowing red and smoke is coming out of my ears. While I know that my anger is slightly misplaced on them, they're the only ones I can share it with at the moment. I'm angry that people actually treat others like I've just heard about. I'm angry that these two airheads are laughing about it like it's funny to treat vulnerable girls like pieces in a game. And most of all, I'm angry that I believed, if only for a second, that I wasn't one of those pieces.

"10 points," I spit like venom, looking each directly in the eye. "Combined."

I smirk at the blank stares I receive in response.

"On the degree of difficulty scale."

And then I turn my back to them and storm out, letting the bathroom door swing back and forth behind me. I run down the hallway to an empty classroom to gather my thoughts, my mind racing. I bite down on my lip so hard I draw blood. It's the only way I can stop it from quivering.

* * *

The graduation ceremony itself is uneventful. I collect my diploma and switch my tassel from right to left with the best of them. Alphabetically, Peeta's name is far enough after mine that he sits rows behind me, practically out of sight. I'm pretty sure he tried to get my attention as I walked by him during the processional, but I've gotten pretty good over the years at ignoring him.

After the ceremony ends, my mother asks if I want to go to dinner to celebrate. Although she actually seems pleased when I tell her I've already made other plans. Apparently she's not used to me having a social life. But then she tells me to be home by midnight, so I guess she also doesn't want me to have _too_ much of a social life.

About an hour later, I sit perched on the branches of the old oak tree that overlooks the dilapidated parking lot of meadowland park. With the exception of a few birds chirping and a couple of squirrels chasing each other, I'm all alone for the moment. The sun hangs low in the sky, giving it an orange-ish tint. I discarded my cap and gown before I walked here, and I welcome the late spring breeze as it hits my bare shoulders. My mother is not going to be pleased that I climbed a tree in this dress, considering it's brand new. Although I guess that never stopped me when I was a little girl, and I'm actually kind of impressed with myself that I can still do it now.

I have a clear view of the park bench I'm supposed to meet him at tonight. I can even see the note I placed on the bench with his name on it, held down by a rock I found a few feet away. I feel like I'm lying in wait, like I'm a hunter waiting to kill my prey. It's an exhilarating feeling, actually.

Finally, the Mellark family SUV pulls into the parking lot uneventfully. I can tell he's immediately confused as he steps out of the car, looking around before closing the driver's side door. He's holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

But then he sees something on the bench, and I watch as he finds my note. I picked the perfect spot in this tree because I can even see his face contort as he reads it. And it doesn't take long—it's short and to the point. I scribbled it quickly on the back of our graduation ceremony program.

_You of all people should know that I'm more than just a piece in your games._

_To be exact, I'm more than just a piece of townie ass._

Peeta clutches the note in one hand and the flowers in the other as he spins around, looking for any sign of me.

It takes him a good two minutes of calling my name out loud before he thinks to look up.

I stare at him, coldly, as he stands at the base of the oak tree, looking up at me ten feet above him. He looks nice, still dressed in slacks and a button up shirt and tie, but his face has lost some of its color.

"Katniss, what the hell is this?" He asks me, waving the note up at me and sounding a little desperate.

I shrug. "I don't know, I guess that depends on how many points I'm worth."

Peeta's expression turns from desperation to slight frustration.

"Katniss, I'm not kidding. I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

I swing both of my legs over the branch so that I completely face Peeta, and hop down from the tree, landing on both feet with ease.

I stand directly in front of him, close enough to see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows, and smirk.

"Oh, come on, Peeta, don't play dumb. Delly Cartwright's fingerfuck fetches 100 points—one for each extra pound, right? So what's Katniss Everdeen—daughter of a convict from the wrong side of town—worth? Enough to put you just over the top? God, I sure hope so, for all the work you've put into this."

I revel in watching Peeta's face go completely white. He drops my note.

"You almost had me there, too."

I sneer and jerk my hand away as Peeta attempts to reach out for it.

"Katniss, I know what it sounds like, but you're not some stupid bet, I swear."

I have to admit, he sounds sincere. Though Peeta Mellark is the master manipulator of words, isn't he?

"Oh, come on Peeta," I practically cackle. "You've spent the better part of the semester talking out of both sides of your mouth to me. You can't really expect me to believe anything you say."

It happens gradually, but I see it on his face as he realizes I've defeated him. His eyes focus on the ground between us.

"There's really nothing I can do or say to get you to believe me, is there?"

I shift my weight from foot to foot, feeling slightly less invincible as his gaze shifts up to me. But I don't respond.

So Peeta takes my silence for his answer.

And then he shoves the bouquet at me, suddenly angry.

"Here. These were for you. And well, I guess you're going to have to apologize to your mother for me." He shakes his head at me, and I'm caught off guard, clumsily holding on to the flowers as it's my turn to look confused.

Peeta chuckles sadly. "I called her to make sure it was okay that I took you out tonight. She invited me for cake and ice cream before we left tonight. I was going to take you back there before we went out. Tell her I'm sorry I couldn't make it, will you?"

My heart catches in my throat, and my eyes dart back and forth between his face and the grass as my head spins, trying to figure this play out. Would Peeta really go so far to drag my mother into this if he was just going to use me as a score? Is he just bluffing about this anyway? But I quickly realize that it doesn't matter anyway.

"I wish I could convince you this isn't an act, Katniss."

Again, he's read my expression exactly right. Nothing's going to change my mind about him anymore. How could I ever trust him after this? I'd have to be the stupidest girl on earth.

Peeta rubs his neck and steps towards me. "You don't have to believe me, but I have to say it, okay? Because this was real to me. Very real." His voice has a forcefulness to it that surprises me. It causes me to give him my full attention.

"I love you, okay? And I'll always love you. And I realize you have every right to doubt me, but when _you_ realize that you're being stubborn in refusing to even hear me out, I'll still be here. And no matter how hard you try, you can't stop me from always being here."

I steel myself and don't react to his declarations. They're just words, I tell myself. Not feelings.

Instead I just shake my head.

"Just go, Peeta," I tell him softly.

He stares at me, watching for any sign of a chink in my armor for almost a full minute, but I know I don't provide one. Finally, he nods.

"I'll see you around, Everdeen." His smile is heartbreaking, if you actually have a heart. But I'm pretty sure I don't.

Because as I watch him turn away and walk towards his car, knowing that Peeta and I will never actually speak again, I realize I should feel at least some sort of emotion—satisfaction, relief, sadness—_something_. Instead, as Peeta Mellark drives off, out of my life, all I'm left with is indifference. I shiver at my own coldness.

And then I callously toss the flowers Peeta gave me—a bouquet of sunset-colored marigolds, bright yellow dandelions, and white roses, a strange mix that's surprisingly beautiful together—to the ground. They land right next to my note as I walk away from all of it.


End file.
